Conflicted
by rabidcrazygirl
Summary: The thoughts and accounts of secondary characters after the battle in DH.  RHr, HG, totally canon, good stuff.
1. Ginny

**This is just Ginny's feelings from the end of the last chapter (not counting the epilogue), and her internal debate over her feelings of loss and her feelings for Harry. Sappy, somewhat angsty, nothing terrible, all-canon. It's also my first Harry Potter fanfic, so I hope you enjoy it!**

I know, deep down inside of me, that I should be happy. I should be rejoicing over the fall of You-Know—of Voldemort (whose name I now force myself to say in an effort to reject the last bonds of fear he has over me), the fact that his followers are either dead, under arrest, or fleeing to the far reaches of the world. I should feel elated, overjoyed and unquenchably happy that I can step outside and not have to watch my back as I walk down the street.

But all I can feel is empty.

I hate myself for it. All around me there are people celebrating, congratulating the champions and consoling one another. I…I just can't. I want to find a corner to hide and cry my eyes out by myself. There's just…too much pain. We've lost too many people to celebrate. How many deaths in this horrible war? Starting with Cedric, all those years ago, winding its way through Sirius, Dumbledore, Mad-Eye, Tonks, Lupin, Colin Creevey, even Hedwig and Dobby, two creatures who would never, ever have hurt a human being. And Fred.

My brother.

And suddenly I feel something through the pain. It is hot tears dripping onto my hands, which are clutching my knees so tightly that I can feel bruises start to form. All I can see is Fred lying lifeless on the floor of the Great Hall, dancing eyes closed, never to laugh again. I see George's face, mourning and lost without his other half. I honestly don't know whether he's going to be able to pull through this. Fred and George have always done everything together. They've been inseparable since the day they were born and now…it's like George is only half a soul.

Honestly, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to pull through this. All that we were fighting for—it seems so meaningless now that the body count is coming in and it isn't just numbers of the slain, it's names of people that I've known and laughed with and loved and lost. And I can never get them back.

Harry. I bite my lip and look upwards at the enchanted ceiling (now cracked and scorched from the battle), fighting back my tears. Now George's face and Fred's body are replaced with an image of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Boy I Loved, the Boy Whose Eyes I See In My Dreams…in my imagination, he's watching me calmly, surrounded by the bodies of those who died for him and his war and now I'm so angry I can barely breathe.

And through that anger is desperation beating its fists against the walls of my heart. I want to be able to forgive Harry. He's the first boy that I've ever loved, and I still love him…but Fred's empty face will be imprinted on my soul forever. Can I love the boy who my brother died for? I want to be able to say yes, that I will love Harry through all obstacles. But…I'm not sure.

I hear footsteps approaching and I glance around, looking for my mother. She said she would be back soon, but she is still at the far end of the Great Hall, conversing quietly with the Malfoys, who look rather grateful to have someone accept their presence, even if that person is a filthy blood traitor. No, it's Harry approaching me, an apprehensive look on his face, and I see Ron and Hermione standing a few yards behind him, talking quietly. My brother reaches out to take Hermione's hand and he kisses it softly as she breaks down into tears and sobs into his shirt. His arms reach around to hold her tightly against him, and even from this distance I can see sobs shaking his shoulders.

But now Harry is right in front of me and I look up into his eyes (the ones that I see when I dream) and again I feel like I'm drowning in an emerald pool of crystal water. But then he blinks and looks down and the spell, which is of no magic that I can control, is broken. He slings a leg over the bench and sits down beside me, avoiding my gaze.

And in that moment, I know the answer to the soul-searching question that I've been asking myself ever since I learned of Fred's death. I know…Harry loved Fred like a brother, and losing him was just as painful to him as it was to me. I reach out and place my finger under Harry's chin, forcing him to look at me. He does so, and I can see the tears running down his face. His skin has become the color of parchment, throwing the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead in sharp contrast, and I run my finger along it, moving his hair aside. He opens his mouth to speak, but I know what he's going to say.

"I—" he says before I cut him off.

"I know," I murmur. "I'm sorry, too." Then, in an eerie imitation of his best friends' actions, Harry catches my hand in his and presses it to his mouth. I throw my arms around his neck and his wraps his around me and we cry together in the pain of loss and the relief that we will always have each other.

**Like I said, horribly sappy. Please review!**


	2. Draco

**So, I decided to make this a bit longer, adding the thoughts of other secondary characters and their accounts of what happened during the last battle. I figured it would be good to do Draco, because he's everyone's favorite…and we'll see how it goes!**

It seems incredible to me that, after all my family has gone through, we are still sitting together, alive. It seems incredible that we emerged from this battle more or less unscathed, while everyone else has lost a friend, a family member, a teacher, a lover. But what is the most incredible to me is that my mother and father, normally so stoic and composed, are weeping as they take me into their arms and hold me so tightly that it's actually difficult to draw breath.

I know that this is all my fault. All this destruction and suffering—I'd thought that I'd wanted it two years ago, when I swore my allegiance to the Dark Lord. But…I took _classes_ with these people! I passed them in the hallways and taunted them behind their backs (and to their faces) and ate with them and lived with them. And now I see their faces on the lifeless bodies of the slain and that is as incredible as my parents' discomposure.

I can't look to my left because that's where the slight body of Colin Creevey has been laid. I used to make his life as difficult as possible—and I can't help but smile as I remember the expression on his rapidly-lengthening face when I hit him from behind with that Stretching Jinx. He was always the eager little runt, such an easy target—but I never would have thought to see him hear, not the target of a harmless jinx, but of a killing curse.

I can't look to my right because the entire Weasley clan has gathered on that side of the Great Hall, circled around the body of…one of them, I'm not sure which one. You can practically _taste_ the grief radiating from the group of red-heads. The mother is holding the daughter tightly, while the girl—Potter's girlfriend, the Quidditch one—pats her on the back, looking pale and lost, but strangely dry-eyed. As for Potter himself, the hero of the hour, there is no sign of him. He disappeared about 45 minutes ago with his two little cronies. Honestly, I can't blame him.

I can't look straight ahead of me because…well, that's where the memories hit me. Right in front of me, someone has been kind enough to lay the bodies of Remus Lupin and his wife, whatshername Tonks. Nymphadora, my mother tells me tightly. My cousin.

_Goyle and I watched Potter, Weasley and Granger disappear down the corridor, running towards the sounds of combat. Without so much as giving me a second look, Goyle turned and fled the opposite direction, to the dark recesses of the castle. I felt as though I was rooted to the spot, staring at the blank wall where the door to the Room of Requirement had previously stood. Crabbe was in there. Or rather, his ashes were. _

_A loud crash echoed down the hallway, waking me out of my reverie. I chased down the corridor after Goyle, turning and running down the staircase to the Great Hall. I didn't get far before I tripped over something and went tumbling down the rest of the staircase, landing at the bottom flat on my back, feeling bruised and very angry. I looked up the stairs as I hauled myself to my feet—and ducked as a flash of green light narrowly missed my ear._

_"NO!" screamed a female voice from behind me. A woman with short pink hair hurtled past me and threw herself down onto the stairs, next to what I had tripped over._

_It was a body, the body of a man. Not just any man, but Remus Lupin, my former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He was very plainly dead._

_The woman didn't seem to notice me, or if she did, she didn't care. She was sobbing brokenly, clutching at the man's robes and murmuring, "No, no, no, Remus, no, get up, Remus, wake up, love…"_

_A cackling laugh that I knew only too well rang out behind me. I turned and saw my aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange slinking up the corridor towards the couple, and towards me. Quickly I stood, and she laughed again as she saw me._

_"If it isn't ickle Drakey!" she exclaimed, pointing a finger at me. "This is just like a little family reunion! Drakey, say hello to your cousin, Nymphadora Tonks!"_

_"Don't call me Nymphadora," the woman on the stairs muttered, making no move to stand or draw her wand to protect herself. _

_"Looks like your husband had a little accident!" cackled Bellatrix, leveling her wand at her niece. "And it wasn't even the full moon!"_

_Now the woman stood, drawing herself fully upright. Her hand remained empty, though—why was she refusing to draw her wand?_

_"You want to join him, do you?" shrieked my aunt, and I saw in her eyes the look of pure insanity that gleamed whenever she was about to kill. "Well…family is all about helping!" A look of defiance crossed my cousin's face, and I saw, for a moment, my mother mirrored there. But then my aunt opened her mouth, and all I could do was scream out, "No!" as a bolt of green light hit Nymphadora Tonks squarely in the chest. She collapsed to the ground, lifeless, next to her husband, and Bellatrix turned to me, shocked at my outburst. But a clamoring from the Great Hall drew her attention and, shooting me one last angry look, she took off the way she came, wand at the ready._

I shake off my parents' arms and rise to my feet, walking the few steps towards the bodies of my former teacher and my cousin. They look peaceful lying there—someone has clasped their hands together, so that they look deeply in love, even in death. I kneel beside Nymphadora, studying her face for that glimpse of my mother that caused my unexpected outburst, but I can't see it. She looks too young, too peaceful, and I close my eyes.

Someone walks up behind me, and I turn and look up at them. It's the Weasley mother, but she isn't looking at me, she's looking at Lupin and Nymphadora. Her face is wet with tears, and more are streaming down her face as she studies the couple.

"She was brave." I don't know what spurs these words, but they slip out of my mouth unbidden. Mrs. Weasley looks down at me, seeing me for the first time. I feel awkward, and elaborate, "She was brave, even when faced with death. She wouldn't take it lying down."

Mrs. Weasley grasps my shoulder, and I feel warmth in her touch. It's the kind of quiet strength that's easy to take comfort in, and draw strength from in turn. I rise to my feet, casting one more glance down on the peaceful face of Nymphadora Tonks, and lead Mrs. Weasley over to my parents.

**Review, please!**


	3. Hermione

**So here's Hermione! This is a lot of Ron/Hermione stuff, because I really do love them a lot. They're my favorite. Unfortunately, I haven't read CoS in a while, so my facts are a bit mixed up where the actual Chamber is concerned, but work with me, here! Please read, please enjoy, and (above all) please review!**

**Also, this one is less angst and more fluff. You were warned!**

It's hard to describe what I'm feeling right now. Before this…second, really, it was all so simple. I was scared when curses and hexes were flying at my face. I was angry when Bellatrix Lestrange screamed at me that I was a dirty mudblood, and made me miss when I aimed a Stunning jinx at her. I was out of my mind with grief when I saw Hagrid walking up to the castle, carrying Harry's body.

But now, things are too quiet and calm for me to be able to work out what I'm feeling. Harry's alive—thank Merlin, thank God, thank anyone up there who's listening—Voldemort's dead, Bellatrix is gone, the threat of the Death Eaters is over. So, part of me is, frankly elated.

But Fred, Tonks, Lupin, and so many other people are also gone. And that's where I start to feel uncertain. This past year has been such a trying experience for me, and nothing sums it up quite like losing three of the most important people in your life. I grimace and push a loose strand of wavy brown hair out of my face.

It was all so much simpler when it came from books. I have to admit, that was what I liked most about Hogwarts (aside from the people, of course). There I was, eleven years old and suddenly exposed to a world unlike anything I'd ever dreamed of. Magic, goblins, dragons, giants—it was like it had stepped out of a fairy tale into the real world. For an eleven year old, maybe it's a bit easier to cope with, but it was still hard. I will never forget the day that Professor McGonnagall knocked on my parents' door with a letter written in green ink and beckoned me off to a life that I did not understand.

I drowned myself in books, in the rules, trying to make sense of this alternate world. And then I met Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. And I met his best friend, Ron Weasley, the Boy Who—

Well, the Boy Who Can Kiss Like Anything. I grin, despite my conflicting emotions, because here I am, standing in the wreckage of the Great Hall, surrounded by bodies and mourners, and what is the most on my mind is how good Ron's arms feel when they're wrapped around my waist. I can hear him whispering into my hair, but I can't understand what he's saying.

An edge of something metallic digs into my hip, and I move backwards. Ron pulls half of Hufflepuff's cup out of his pocket, and I do the same from mine. We look at each other, and I'm willing myself not to remember what happened in the Chamber of Secrets, but it's too late.

_I was amazed that anything had happened as a result of Ron's strangled hiss—it had just sounded like gibberish to me. But the sink had moved aside, and Ron held out his hand to me, eyes focused downwards on the gloomy dark below. I grabbed his hand, linking our fingers together, and he smiled at me before stepping out over thin air—and we both plummeted down, cushioned by Ron's Floating charm._

_The tunnel ahead was blocked with a pile of rubble, but I cleared it aside with a flick of Bellatrix's wand, which still felt so alien and horrible to me. Ahead, we saw a large, empty chamber. I gulped, my eyes drawn to the huge skeleton lying right in the center. The Basilisk._

_"It's skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever," I heard Ron mutter, and I felt his hand tighten around mine. "C'mon."_

_Together we approached the dead snake, and I was the one to reach forward first and carefully tug a tooth free. I grimaced, showing it to Ron, who in turn, held forth the cup._

_"I did the locket," he said, looking pale. "Now you've got to kill the cup." I nodded tensely, not knowing what to expect, but fearing the worst. Ron caught my chin in his free hand and forced me to look at him. "Hey," he murmured. "I'm right beside you. Just—don't listen to anything it says. And do it quickly."_

_I looked apprehensively back at the small cup, which had started to glow sickeningly in Ron's hands. Then, with an explosion of silence, two figures erupted forth from the engraved letter H—one was my mother. The other was Ron._

_"Hermione…" my mother's voice echoed through the cavern. "Hermione, your father and I—we just wanted you to know how happy we are in our new life. We're as happy as we ever would have been if you'd never been born."_

_"When I walked out," Ron's doppelganger was saying, "I found out that I don't need you. You're always bossing me around, trying to control me…and you're so thick that you don't realize how much I hate it."_

_"Hermione!" This was the real Ron, looking even more pale and urgent. "Just stab it! It's not real!"_

_"Don't come back, Hermione," Mum said, and Ron's voice faded away. "Don't take away our happiness out of your selfish need for us. We're so peaceful without you. We'd be happy if we never saw you again."_

_"So would I," said the Horcrux-Ron, smiling in a way that made my heart twist with despair. "Lavender Brown would probably take me back. I've never forgiven you for last year, you know. Those birds…those long months of silence…your complete and utter lack of trust…"_

_"Stab it, Hermione!" the real Ron screamed, and with a cry of anger and fury, I lunged forward, plunging my arm downwards._

_There was an ear-splitting scream, and for one sickening moment, I thought that I'd missed the cup and stabbed Ron by accident. But then the faces of Mum and the fake Ron exploded, leaving only the golden cup, cloven in half by the basilisk fang._

_My eyes met Ron's, just for a moment, before I collapsed against him, shaking, the fang falling from my nerveless grasp._

_"I saw you and Harry." His voice was hollow as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I could feel the cold metal of the cup pressed against my cheeks. He was still holding onto the Horcrux. Ron sighed. "You were saying that you never…felt anything for me, that you were happier with him." I looked up at him, about to protest, but he silenced me with a look. "He explained it wasn't true," he told me, smiling slightly. "And when I saw you again, and you were angry at me…well, something in me knew that Harry was right." He pulled back from me and held me at arms-length, hands on my shoulders. "You are perfect like you are, Hermione," he told me, shaking me slightly. "Bossiness, moodiness, bookishness and everything."_

I can feel tears dripping onto my forehead, and I know Ron is crying. I don't say anything—I just hold him a little tighter, trying to offer him what comfort I can. It's been a long year for us all—hell, it's been a long _seven_ years for us all. But I know that whatever comes next, Ron will be there for me. And I plan on being there for him, too.

**Oooh, fluff. I love to write fluff. Review, please!**


	4. Neville

**Hello! Would you look at this? It's another chapter! This time it's Neville (who is totally awesome), with a special guest appearance by the equally awesome Luna Lovegood. No flashbacks in this chapter—now it's really a lot of dialogue (something exciting and new!) So please, enjoy and review!**

I'm not used to this—it's too loud here, too crowded. So many people have huddled around me that I can't see beyond them. It's just a mass of black robes and dirty, eager, hopeful faces gazing at me, each one with an open mouth asking me question after question that I can't understand, much less answer. Instead, I just force a smile and stare down at my hands.

They're clutching the hilt of the sword. The Sword of Gryffindor. Harry said that only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat, and a year ago, I wouldn't have believed him. The concept of me being a true Gryffindor was laughable, not only to other people. I went through six years of my life believing that the Sorting Hat had made some kind of horrible mistake and placed me in the wrong house. I mean, _brave_? _Me_? Even after what happened in the Ministry, I didn't believe it. It was a fluke, a trick, a dream, and soon I'd wake up and return to reality, to being a bumbling fool. And I did wake up, and I did go back to being a bumbling fool, all through sixth year.

Then it all went to hell.

I sigh, and my fists clench on the hilt. I can feel the ridges of the leather against my palm and I run my fingers along it, determined to memorize every single detail of this passing moment of glory before I screw up and explode a potion or a spell backfires and my hair turns to gardenias sprouting from the top of my head. No one around me notices that I'm not paying any attention to them. They just keep on shouting their questions at me, pressing in around me until I feel like I can't breath, and all I want to do is get out.

Then one voice floats above the others, and I grin in recognition. "Professor McGonnagall wants to speak with you, Neville," Luna says, and I turn to see her standing right next to me. I have no idea how she wove her way through this mass of mad people, but she has and I have never been happier to see someone in my entire life. I fake regret and, shrugging, follow her long mane of blonde hair out of the Great Hall and to the steps outside.

"Professor McGonnagall didn't really want to see you," she says, gazing out over the horizon. Her huge eyes are distant, and there are tear tracks through the grime on her cheeks. I remember, suddenly, how she looked during the battle, her expression wild but focused as she dodged curse after curse hurled by Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman who'd…wrecked my entire life. I had admired her courage in that moment, but not as much as I did right now. Her expression was stoic, hard as stone, not her normal sort of airy delight in the world.

"No, I knew that," I reply. "And thanks. I didn't think I could take much more of that."

Luna smiles tightly, but doesn't look at me. "Harry needed to get out, too," she says. "I'm not sure where he and Ron and Hermione went off to."

"The heroes of the hour." I bite my lip as I say this, feeling an odd mixture of jealousy and affection. Ever since coming to Hogwarts, I'd looked up to those three, seeing them as the essence of Gryffindor—as being everything that I wasn't. They had always had the answers, they always knew what to do and how to do it, they were always right in the middle of the action.

"It's…it's good to see you again," I offer. My hands clench in embarrassment at this, and I realize in surprise that I've taken the sword with me. Carefully laying it down on the steps next to me, I do my best to catch Luna's eye.

"Yes, well…" she makes an airy gesture that is reminiscent of the old Luna. "I've been…busy."

"Locked up in the Malfoy's cellar and then confined to the Weasley's cottage?" I ask. Luna looks at me for the first time, incredulity filling her huge eyes. "Ron told me," I explain.

"Oh," she says. "Well…yes. That's pretty much it." She looks down, studying the torn, dirty fabric of her robes, and suddenly I know what's bothering her.

"Any word about your father?" I ask gently. Without responding or meeting my eyes, she shakes her head. Awkwardly, I place an arm around her shoulders. "He'll be all right," I tell her, aware that this meager comfort won't be much help. She needs to talk to Hermione, to Ginny, to someone who will know what to do.

But to my amazement, she leans against my chest, closing her eyes. Somewhat at a loss, I pat her shoulder, watching as one tear gleams its way down her cheek, cleaning a new track in the dirt.

"You were so brave today," I say, and now it's me looking out over the horizon. "I saw you in the middle of things, dueling with Bellatrix Lestrange. It's got to be one of the bravest things I've ever seen anyone do."

She snorts, which startles me. I don't think I've ever heard her make a noise like that before. "I had Hermione and Ginny to help me," she said, raising a hand to brush the tear off her face. "And we weren't the ones who finished her."

"Well, wherever your father is, I'm sure he'll be very proud of you when he hears about what happened," I venture, not saying what we both are thinking. _What if he's dead? What happens if he's dead?_

"He's all I've got," Luna says in a small voice, and I know she's talking about her father. "I'm all he's got. If he's gone…"

"Then you'll still have us," I say firmly, squeezing her shoulder. She laughs, but her heart isn't into it.

"Well, speaking of bravery," she says, changing the subject abruptly, "how about you? You faced down You-Know-Who himself! You killed his snake!"

I blink. To be terribly honest, I haven't been thinking about that much. My thoughts have been preoccupied with the dark hours before then, with searching through the courtyard and the castle for the bodies of my friends and fellow classmates. I've been thinking of how light Colin Creevey was when Oliver and I lifted him into the air, with how it felt to see faces that I recognized on the bodies of the slain, eyes closed, never to open again. My heart twists to remember, and suddenly my mouth goes dry and I can't speak.

"It's okay to remember," says Luna in her normal soft voice. "They wouldn't want us to forget them. It's even okay to mourn. Just don't let it consume you. We have to move forward with our lives, to keep living and loving even though they're gone."

I look at her, startled by the wisdom in her words. My Gran had said almost the same thing to me when I first realized that I would never have parents like other children. Luna smiles, and this time it's a real Luna-smile full of light and joy and the slight twist of the extremely weird. Her eyes are focused on me, focused for the first time in a while.

"If you admit that you were brave," she says, "then I will admit that I was. Because you were. And it _was_ pretty nervy of me to take on Bellatrix Lestrange."

"I'm not a true Gryffindor!" I protest, gesturing helplessly. "It's Ron and Hermione and Harry who are!"

"Ron and Hermione and Harry weren't here this year," Luna points out. "They were off on their own. You were the one who commanded the DA, who braved the Death Eaters and who faced Voldemort." She pats my arm. "You are the truest Gryffindor of them all."

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	5. George

**This chapter is probably my last (unless anyone can give me a good idea for a main character for another chapter!) and it's about George. I know, I know, George, he's so overdone and angsty, but do you know what? That's why he's so fun to write for right now! Also, I wanted to give him a bit of a happy ending, a reason to keep on living. **_**Also**_**, also, he's too much of a loose end for me to just ignore. So read! And review! I promise that the end isn't too sad!**

I wish that I could say that no one noticed me as I slunk between the long tables out of the Great Hall and into the faint light of the early morning sun, but I know that isn't the case. Everyone I know is keeping at least one eye on me, either to make sure that I'm still holding up alright, or just because I remind them so damn much of him. I understand, but that doesn't mean that I have to like it. So when I stand abruptly and turn to leave, not even Mum's heartbreaking whisper of "George…please…" can stop me.

I've always been the logical one. Fred was the dreamer, the one with all the crazy schemes. He'd pitch them to me, his partner-in-crime, and I'd figure out just how to pull them off. But what good is the logical one without the dreamer to inspire him? What's George without the "Fred and"? There's something about this situation that defies logic, anyway, and I don't know what else to do but to walk away from my family, to try to sort things out on my own.

I don't cry. This hole inside me is too deep, too profound for mere tears. And I can't stand still, either, because if I do, then the full meaning of what has just happened will hit me all at once, and I'll collapse in on myself, imploding like a dying star, unable to function.

I stalk about the ruined grounds of Hogwarts, taking in the shattered landscape with unseeing eyes. By now, all the bodies have been collected and removed to the Great Hall, but you can still see the evidence that they were here, only hours before. Scorch marks on the trees, little puddles of blood on the ground, a dead spider or two. Without thinking about the possible disastrous consequences or the fact that it _should_ be impossible, I twist and feel my way into nothingness, Apparating to the place I've called home for the past two years—Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley.

The store is empty, of course, and very dark. I flick my wand in the direction of the lamps and they blaze to life, rather more exuberantly than I'd intended, but right now I'm not in very firm control of my emotions. I throw myself down into one of the large squashy armchairs next to the Muggle Magic display and rub my eyes.

The Muggle Magic had been all Fred's idea. I never would have thought that it would have brought in any money at all, but Dad's got friends just like him—weird, eccentric and a tiny bit obsessive. The display is just one more example of Fred's genius.

I grin as I look across the store to the wall of pink. That had been one of my ideas, the line of products for girls. I'd caught Ginny experimenting one evening in the Gryffindor common room back in fifth year and had gotten a sudden brainstorm. Fred, of course, had supported it immediately, and with some of Ginny's help, we'd dreamed up a bunch of products that have been moving very quickly off the shelves ever since.

Or the fake wands! Another example of our collaboration, because the rubber chickens are my trademark, while Fred is—_was_, I correct myself grimly—was all about the boxer shorts.

The sun blazes on the shop window, the color of Ginny's hair, and I think back to my family still huddled together in the Great Hall. _They've all got one another,_ I think bitterly. _Ginny has Harry, Ron has Hermione, Mum and Dad have got each other, and so have Bill and Charlie, since they've always paired up, ganging up against us younger ones—_

What about Percy? I realize with a start that I haven't seen him for at least a couple of hours. I suppose that I'm just so used to _not_ seeing him that I don't notice when I don't.

Something glitters in the empty street outside. I hadn't realized that the streets would be deserted until I got here, but most people are up at the school or spending time with the family that they have left, celebrating quietly the end to this reign of terror. Cautiously I rise and approach the window. Peering through, I can see Percy standing on the other side of the street, watching the store front expressionlessly, the lenses of his glasses glittering in the light of early morning. I open the door and step outside, crossing to my brother.

"I used to come here a lot," he says without greeting. "Over the last two years. I would stand right here and just watch people go in and out. I tried to tell myself that it was such a stupid endeavor, that you two would fall flat on your faces, but do you know what?" He looks at me for the first time, and I cock my head in inquiry. "I was damn proud of you," he tells me. "You and Fred struck out on your own in a way that I was never brave enough to do."

"You could have come in," I offer helplessly. Percy laughs.

"You and Fred would have kicked me right back out," he says. "I was a right arse, I'll tell you that much." I shake my head. I'm not in the mood for placing blame right now. Percy shakes his head, too, but I can tell that he is silently reprimanding himself for the past three years.

"Why aren't you back at Hogwarts with the rest of the family?" he asks me. I start to sigh, but it catches oddly in my chest.

"Everyone keeps…staring at me," I explain in a quiet voice. "Not like they do at Harry or Neville. They don't shake my hand or offer congratulations. They just stare. Whenever I walk up, they get this sort of…hopeful look on their faces, like for just one second they think that I might be him. But I'm not." I laugh dryly and point to the gaping hole in the side of my head where my ear once was. "Then they see this and they always start to cry. I had to get out."

Percy nods tightly, and I can tell that he understands. We lapse into silence for a moment or two, staring at the front of the store. It looks garish and slightly bedraggled. Fred and I had had to tone it down when You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters were in power, and our hearts hadn't been into it like they used to.

"It's how he wanted to go," Percy says, suddenly. I look at him, startled.

"What do you mean?" I ask, and my voice sounds harsh and angry to my ears. "Death by wall?"

"No," my brother replies calmly. "He died laughing." I bite my lip, not wanting to admit that Percy is right, even though I know that he is.

"C'mon," I say, beckoning Percy. "Lemme show you the inside, since you've never seen it." I lead him across the street and into the shop. Percy takes in the overflowing shelves and the heaping bins with wide eyes and a childlike look of wonder, and he wanders over to the Muggle Magic display as soon as he spots it. I grin, my first real smile in a very, very long time. Looks like Perce takes after Dad in more ways than he cares to admit.

The shop door is still open, and I can hear the echoes of someone's laughter floating down the street, accompanied by distant strains of music. Celebrations are obviously picking up steam as news from Hogwarts trickles down into the city. I smile again. Laughter. The way Fred would have wanted to go. I look back around the shop, sticking my fingers into the PygmyPuff cage and enjoying the tickling sensation as the little furballs crowd around my finger. Laughter was always Fred's gift to the world, and if I keep on giving it, then my twin will always be with me.

**Yeah, it's pretty mushy, and it's not my favorite of the chapters. It's a little too introspective for my taste, but I **_**had**_** to write it, you see. Please tell me if you liked it! That means: Review! Review lots! Please?**


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